


Visible

by SherlockianWhovian



Series: If Not Now... Then When? [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, Marriage, Mycroft-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4736522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianWhovian/pseuds/SherlockianWhovian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'Invisible'. Mycroft has turned his life around... Or has he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"What's this?" John asked when he found a metallic silver envelope amongst a stack of bills.

"Post." Sherlock replied without looking up from his laptop.

John opened the envelope and pulled out a formal invitation. "You are cordially invited to the wedding of Miss Anthea Elizabeth Holmes and Mr Mycroft William George Holmes." he read.

Sherlock shot to his feet, a look of horror on his face, "They've invited us to their wedding? We don't have to go do we, John? Imagine how tedious it'll be." he complained.

"Your brother is getting married and you don't want to go? I doubt they've invited many people, Sherlock." John said with a frown, "I'm going to invite them to dinner."

"What? No! Are you mad? That will only encourage them to come here more often!" Sherlock protested.

"Sherlock. Mycroft is your brother." John said with a sigh.

"Yes, a brother that is insufferable. I dragged him away from his drug habit and he's repaying me by making me go to a wedding? That is definitely not a good repayment." Sherlock muttered.

\---

"Hi John." Anthea said with a smile, leaning in to kiss John's cheek.

"Hi Anthea." John replied, giving her a one-armed hug.

"John." Mycroft said with a nod, handing over a bottle of wine.

"Good evening, Mycroft. This looks expensive." John said, accepting the bottle with a raised eyebrow.

"It's nothing. The wine cellar is crowded. We need to get rid of the stuff." Anthea laughed.

"Are you going to come inside or just stand there?" Sherlock asked without bothering to get up to greet them.

"Congratulations are in order, don't you think, Sherlock?" John prompted with a smile to their guests.

"Congratulations on planning to sign a legal piece of paper." Sherlock said sarcastically.

"Ignore him. We didn't realize you'd proposed, Mycroft. Not until we saw the invitation." John continued, doing his best to make conversation. Sherlock was going though a slow few weeks with cases and was especially irritable.

"I did tell him to tell you both before we sent out the invitations." Anthea said, looking up at Mycroft.

"I would have told them, dearest. Had I not been to five different countries this week." Mycroft replied.

"Excuses, excuses..." Anthea teased with a smile.

They were a happy couple, but Anthea was clearly the more bubbly of the pair. Mycroft was usually equally as socially graceful, but after a busy week of meetings and paperwork, he wasn't keen to spend time with his brother.

"I hope you don't mind but we've ordered takeaway." John said as he sat down in his chair.

"On the contrary, John, we'd rather eat takeaway than anything prepared near Sherlock's experiments." Mycroft replied with a glance to his brother.

"They are perfectly safe experiments, Mycroft." Sherlock snapped.

"Talking of experiments, I'd like you to be on your best behaviour for the wedding." Mycroft said, fiddling with his cuff-links as he spoke, "I'd appreciate it if you would be my Best Man, Sherlock."

Sherlock laughed, "Out of two people you could have asked, you chose me? Why?"

"You are my brother, Sherlock. You would be the most traditional choice." Mycroft replied defensively.

"I think it's a great idea." John spoke up, "We'll be going, won't we Sherlock?"

"Yes, I believe that day is free in our diary." Sherlock replied.

"Right, time to open the wine, I think!" Anthea said, getting to her feet. She walked to the kitchen and opened the bottle, pouring out four glasses. She handed one to John and Sherlock each before she sat down beside Mycroft and handed him a glass.

"Thank you, dear." he murmured, placing a kiss on her cheek and making her smile.

Sherlock made a vomiting noise from the other side of the room, "You two are disgusting. Do you have to be so lovey-dovey?" he muttered.

"Yes, actually." Anthea laughed.

John had chance to observe Mycroft and Anthea while they were distracted by Sherlock's antics. Mycroft was incredibly careful with Anthea. He was gentle and formal, being respectful but also offering small glimpses of affection. His hard poker face seemed to disappear when she was nearby. He sat quite casually beside his wife-to-be, his arm draped over the sofa behind her and his eyes regularly scanned her to check that all was well. John found it all incredibly sweet, despite Sherlock's teasing.

Mycroft's phone rang and he got to his feet, leaving the living room quickly to take the confidential call.

"How is he? With the cravings?" John asked quietly.

"Better." Anthea replied with a smile, "He still gets them and some days are worse than others, but he's not relapsed."

"And the PTSD?" Sherlock asked.

"He's dealing with it. He refuses therapy, of course, but he's making an effort to put away the negative memories." Anthea explained.

"How do you put up with him?" Sherlock asked with a frown.

"I don't put up with him. He's fun to be around and you know it." Anthea replied, "Don't pretend that you're cold towards him. You enjoyed helping him get clean, just as much as he enjoyed you being there."


	2. Chapter 2

"You have no idea what she's wearing? No idea, at all?" Sherlock demanded.

"I know she's wearing white, brother dear, but I have no idea about the style of the dress." Mycroft replied. He was sat in John's chair in 221B whilst his brother stood at the desk, moving papers around.

"How can our suits possibly match her outfit if she gives us no clue at all about the style? Is it a retro dress? Is it long? Is it short? Does it have lace?" Sherlock muttered in frustration.

"Are you still going on about that?" John asked as he entered the flat. He looked at his watch, "I've been gone almost 8 hours and you're still moaning?" he added teasingly.

"I'm not moaning. I am trying to plan the theme and colour scheme of the wedding." Sherlock replied with a frown.

"You really don't need to do this, brother. Anthea can arrange a professional wedding planner to take over." Mycroft said, glancing at his watch, "You've had me here all day and you have still yet to make a decision."

"The colour scheme will require more research and experimentation than first thought." Sherlock declared, sitting down at the desk.

"On that note, I'll be off." Mycroft said, getting to his feet. He paused for a moment, looking for his umbrella before he remembered that he'd left it at home.

"No umbrella, Mycroft?" John asked curiously.

"Regrettably not, John." Mycroft replied with a slight grimace, "Anthea insisted that I must break the habit before I become too dependent on it."

"She doesn't want it in her wedding photos then?" John chuckled.

"No. It doesn't fit with the image that she has in mind." Mycroft said, walking to the door, "Goodbye, John. Brother dear, I look forward to hearing your colour scheme analysis."

\---

"How did it go?" Anthea asked, looking up from her paperwork.

"Not well." Mycroft replied, sitting down opposite her in their home office.

"Did you come to a conclusion on a colour scheme?" she asked, putting down her pen.

"No. Sherlock went around in circles for the whole day before he decided that he needed more research. Honestly Anthea, if we continue to let Sherlock plan the wedding, I doubt it will even happen." Mycroft said with a sigh, "How is work?"

"Busy, but I've managed to postpone all of your meetings. I just need you to sign some forms." Anthea replied, sorting her paperwork into neat piles and handing a set of papers to him.

"You're an excellent assistant." Mycroft complimented with a smile, taking the papers and picking up a pen.

"Good. I'm glad you think so." Anthea chuckled, getting up from the desk, "I'm cooking duck with a plum sauce and mash for dinner."

"That sounds nice. It's been a while since we've had duck." Mycroft replied, not looking up as he signed his name where she'd drawn a small star.

Anthea left the room and walked to the kitchen to begin cooking dinner.

\---

"Burgundy." Sherlock declared.

"Burgundy?" Mycroft repeated with a raised eyebrow, "Forgive me, brother, but I doubt my dearest will want to be married in burgundy."

"Not her, you! Your tie will be burgundy, to offset the black of your suit and the white of her dress." Sherlock explained.

"Thank you for deciding on the colour of my tie, now will you get back to the job in hand and decide on a colour for the wedding reception?" Mycroft sighed.

"Burgundy. There. Decided." Sherlock replied with a nod.

"But isn't burgundy a little heavy for a wedding reception?" Mycroft asked.

"At normal weddings, yes, but not at your wedding. Burgundy will match the interior of the country house." Sherlock replied.

"Sherlock..." Mycroft sighed.

"You promised me complete control of your wedding, brother. This is equivalent to a case worth at least a 7." Sherlock pouted.

"Just a 7?" Mycroft smirked, "Fine. Continue with your mad plans, just make sure Anthea will enjoy it."

"The wedding is coming together nicely. It's the stag do that needs more planning." Sherlock joked.

Mycroft's face revealed his horror, "I hope you have no intention of dragging me around _bars_ with _people_." he said with disgust.

"You'll find out on the night, brother dear." Sherlock teased.


	3. Chapter 3

"No. I'm not wearing that." Mycroft said, doing his best to remain calm and collected.

"It's your stag do. You need to get into the spirit of things." Sherlock argued.

"I am not wearing antlers on my head, Sherlock." Mycroft protested, "There is no need for them."

"You promised me complete control of your wedding, Mycroft." Sherlock said with a frown.

Mycroft sighed and took the headband and reluctantly put it on, "There. Are you happy now?" he said.

"Very." Sherlock laughed, "I'm not going to let you forget this."

"You're so kind." Mycroft replied with a frown, "Can I take them off now?"

"Yes. Antlers just don't suit you." Sherlock teased.

Mycroft pulled the headband off and put it onto the coffee table.

"Ready to go then?" John asked, coming downstairs from his bedroom.

"Obviously." both Holmes brothers replied in equally bored tones.

"What do you have planned then?" John asked his flatmate.

"You mean you haven't vetted his ideas first?" Mycroft asked John with a frown, "Now I'm worried."

\---

"A dessert bar?" John repeated before he burst out laughing. They were in a nice part of London, stood outside a wine bar with a dessert theme.

"I thought it was appropriate. You're not to touch drugs or alcohol, but you can have as much cake as you like, Mycroft." Sherlock chuckled.

Mycroft sighed and shook his head, "Very well. We will give it a go." he said.

Sherlock led the way to the bookings desk and declared his name. They were shown through to a table in the luxurious bar.

"Wow." John murmured under his breath as he looked over the menu.

"I understand your thinking, brother dear, but is a 5-course experience really necessary? I am on a diet." Mycroft said, looking over the menu items.

"You've been on a diet for years and you don't look any different. A little cake won't hurt." Sherlock replied.

\---

"I believe it's time for me to return home." Mycroft said, getting to his feet and pulling on his jacket after they'd finished the last course.

"It's 10pm." Sherlock protested, glancing at his watch.

"As much as I have enjoyed this short evening with you, Sherlock, I do really have better things to be doing." Mycroft replied.

"At least stay for a nightcap with us. You can't drink much, but one won't hurt." John suggested.

Mycroft nodded and sat back down, accepting the offer, "Very well. One." he agreed.

\---

"When did they get home?" Anthea asked as she and Mrs Hudson stood in the doorway of 221B.

"It was in the early hours of the morning. They made a terrible racket. I was going to come out and tell them off, but my hip was playing up." Mrs Hudson replied.

Anthea nodded, "Will you make breakfast for them? They'll need it." she chuckled a little.

"Of course, dear, but I'm not the housekeeper." Mrs Hudson replied as she went back downstairs.

Anthea walked over to the sofa where her disheveled husband-to-be was lying. She shook his shoulder gently and then harder. "Mycroft?" she called.

Mycroft let out a groan, his head spinning. He sat up and immediately regretted it, closing his eyes and trying to stop the world from spinning. One drink had spiraled into two, three, four, five and more, until they'd all collapsed at 221B.

"Right. I'm going to work. Stay here and sober up. I'll be back later." Anthea said, tapping his arm a little before she made her way out of the flat.


	4. Chapter 4

"Well, I don't need to ask what you were up to last night." Anthea sighed, looking up at Mycroft as he entered their home, "You smell like a brewery."

"It was only one or two." Mycroft replied defensively.

"Or five or six." Anthea said with a frown, "After all the work we put into getting you sober, you're just drinking again."

"I don't have a problem, Anthea." Mycroft protested.

"You're an alcoholic, Mycroft." Anthea sighed, "I don't want to marry a drunk."

"Then don't marry me." Mycroft responded, his tone more biting than he'd intended.

Anthea glared at him and walked away.

"Anthea, no, I didn't mean it..." Mycroft called after her, punching the wall in anger at his own stupidity. It had been a long time since he'd last been hungover, so it was much harder for him to keep his mood in check. With a sigh, he put his coat back on and made his way back to his brother's home. He didn't want to stay in his own home when Anthea wasn't speaking to him.

\---

"Have you been kicked out?" Sherlock asked without looking up from a wedding magazine.

"Apparently I smell like a brewery." Mycroft sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"You can have a shower here." John said, looking up from his paper, "The towels are in the bathroom cupboard."

"Thank you, John. I didn't intend to impose on you." Mycroft replied as he walked towards the bathroom.

"It's no problem. I shouldn't have bought you a drink." John admitted.

Mycroft nodded and entered the bathroom, locking the door behind himself.

"I don't know what we were thinking of." John sighed, looking over at Sherlock, "We shouldn't have encouraged him."

"I hoped he'd be able to stop at one drink." Sherlock admitted, looking up at John.

"Alcoholics can't stop." John murmured, looking back down at his paper.

"This shows us that he's not as controlled as we think he is." Sherlock said, "Perhaps we should have Anthea check the house for drugs?"

John nodded, "I'll call her." he replied, getting up from his chair and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

\---

Anthea stormed into 221B, a bag of cocaine in her hand. "What is this?" she demanded, holding up the bag and glaring at Mycroft.

"I've never seen it before." Mycroft insisted, his eyes locked onto the white powder.

"In your sock draw? Really, brother?" Sherlock said with a raised eyebrow, glancing at Anthea, the drugs and then Mycroft.

Mycroft sighed and got to his feet, frustration clear on his face, "It's nothing. It's just a small amount." he muttered.

"You promised me that you were done with the drugs!" Anthea shouted, throwing the bag at him.

Mycroft caught it and put it into his pocket, "I'm not out of control." he replied, "I keep a small amount to keep me feel relaxed. The cravings seem less when I know that I have some in the house."

"You've been using it." Sherlock said, looking his brother over, "After all of our time and energy, it's meaningless. You are an addict and an alcoholic, you need professional help, brother dear."

"Why can't you all just stop interfering?" Mycroft snapped, "All I want to do is work hard and get married! Who cares if I use cocaine or drink wine?"

"I do." Anthea replied quietly, watching him sadly, "I don't think I can marry you, Mycroft. I don't want to watch you kill yourself."


	5. Chapter 5

"I thought I made it clear that you weren't welcome in my life." Mycroft said without looking up as he worked on paperwork in his office.

"Anthea called me." Sherlock replied, his tone cold, "She said that you fired her this morning, via text."

"She is no longer of use to me." Mycroft responded, putting down his pen.

"What happened to her being an important part of your life? You announced your intentions at an official inquiry!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"I thought she was The One. I was wrong. Sentiment clouded my judgement." Mycroft replied, looking up at his brother.

"And now you've given her one hell of a motive." Sherlock said, sitting down in the chair opposite Mycroft's desk.

"Are you suggesting that Anthea might hurt me?" Mycroft frowned.

"She's a trained assassin that you've dumped and fired from her job. I think it's reasonable to expect her to want your head on a spike." Sherlock replied casually.

"Then what do you suggest? I imagine that you're here to do more than just preach." Mycroft said, watching him.

"Matters of the heart are not my expertise, but John informs me that if you don't find Anthea and apologize to her today, you will lose her forever. Caring is not an advantage, brother, but I have seen you thaw over these past few weeks." Sherlock replied, getting to his feet, "Act now."

"Anthea is safer without me." Mycroft sighed, "I can't put her back into danger again."

"Safer? What are you talking about?" Sherlock demanded.

"He's back." Mycroft admitted softly.

"Moriarty." Sherlock gasped, sitting down again, "When?"

"A couple of weeks ago." Mycroft replied.

"That's why you've taken up the drugs again." Sherlock said, "When were you going to tell me?"

"I wasn't. I was going to deal with him myself." Mycroft admitted.

"By pushing Anthea away you've given Moriarty the only weapon that he needs. The key to your heart." Sherlock sighed.

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned." Mycroft murmured.

"Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned." Sherlock replied.

\---

 "How do I know that the Ice Man hasn't sent you?" Moriarty asked as he lounged in an armchair in a private club.

"You'd already be dead if he had." Anthea replied, sitting down in an armchair opposite him.

"You're that good are you? As good as the Ice Man himself?" Moriarty smirked.

"Better." Anthea said, "He trained me himself, but my skills have surpassed his."

"So why are you here? Why do you suddenly need my help?" Moriarty asked.

"He has made a fool of me. I thought he loved me, but I was just entertainment to him." Anthea said, anger in her voice, "I want to get him back. I want to make him feel the pain that I do."

"I can do that. I'm happy to strike the Ice Man where it hurts, but my help will come at a price." Moriarty smirked.

"What is your price?" Anthea asked with a frown.

"I want you to deal the fatal blow." Moriarty chuckled, "It's quite fitting, isn't it?"

"Fine. Bring him to his knees and I'll take over from there." Anthea agreed, offering her hand to shake on the deal.

Moriarty looked down at her hand for a moment before he took it and gently shook it, "You have a deal." he said.

Anthea got to her feet and let go of his hand. Without another word, she quickly left the room in the club.

"Follow her." Moriarty ordered, looking over at one of his followers, "I doubt her motives."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Heav'n has no rage like love to hatred turn'd, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorn'd." - Act III, Scene VIII, The Mourning Bride (1697), William Congreve.


	6. Chapter 6

Mycroft sighed as he closed and locked the door of his office. He leaned heavily on his umbrella as he turned to leave the corridor.

"Ice Man." Moriarty's voice sing-songed from the darkness of the other end of the corridor.

Mycroft turned in the direction of the all-too-familiar voice. "What are you doing here?" he asked, "This is a government building."

"I wanted to pay you a visit." Moriarty said with a smirk, stepping out into the light, "Your little assistant isn't very loyal."

"She's not my assistant anymore." Mycroft replied, meeting Moriarty's eyes.

"You're quite right. She's my little helper now." Moriarty chuckled.

"So she came to you." Mycroft sighed with a nod, "What did she want from you?"

"My help." Moriarty replied with a smirk, taking a step closer, "I hear that you've been a bad boyfriend."

"It's none of your business." Mycroft said, speaking a little more quickly and coldly than he intended.

"It is my business when it relates to my work. I've been employed to catch you for her. To catch you like a rat in a trap." Moriarty smirked.

"Go ahead. Now is your opportunity." Mycroft replied, watching the criminal.

Moriarty laughed, "That would be far too easy. I like the hunt." he said, "I just wanted to warn you that we're coming for you."

"How kind of you." Mycroft said coolly, determined to remain calm and composed.

"I love playing with you, Ice Man." Moriarty laughed, "You're much more fun that little Sherlock."

"Enough of your games, Moriarty." Mycroft replied, "It's late and if you don't mind, I'd like to return home."

"Off you go, Ice Man. Run and hide. I'll see you soon." Moriarty chuckled, turning and walking back into the darkness of the corridor.

Mycroft sighed and shook his head before he walked in the opposite direction, making his way through the building and out to his car.

\---

"Where is she?" Mycroft asked, pacing around his brother's living room.

"I can't find her. She's good. You trained her well." Sherlock said, lying on his sofa with his hands in a praying position.

"When and where did she meet with Moriarty? He claims that she hired him." Mycroft said, looking over Sherlock's map of London.

"You've had contact from Moriarty?" John asked, looking up from his laptop.

"He visited me at work a couple of days ago." Mycroft replied with a nod.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sherlock demanded, "Why are you so determined to hide this?"

"Not everything is suspicious. She's angry and she wants to get back at me, she's entitled to that." Mycroft admitted.

"She's hired Moriarty. This isn't just an attempt to get back at you. Moriarty will use her for his own ends. This won't end with you." Sherlock said, frustrated at having to point out the obvious to his brother.

"If we fight back then Anthea will get hurt." Mycroft sighed.

"She's already going to get hurt. She's chosen his side, Mycroft!" Sherlock snapped.

"She's angry. She'll regret her actions. She'll come back to us." Mycroft said, sitting down on the arm of the sofa.

"She's not coming back, Mycroft! You pushed her away." Sherlock said, moving into a sitting position.

"I know, but whatever happens isn't her fault. It's mine." Mycroft sighed.

John put his laptop down and stood up, "Okay, so we know that Anthea is with Moriarty. Shouldn't we focus our attention on arming ourselves?" he said.

"Always the soldier." Mycroft said, looking over John with a smile.

John nodded, "If we can't find them then they're sure to find us. We need to plan for when they arrive. If it's Mycroft that they're after then we need to make sure that they can't get to him easily." he said.

"Anthea has a key to my house. She still technically lives there." Mycroft pointed out.

"You'll have to stay here then." John said.

"Oh joy." Sherlock muttered sarcastically.

"Be quiet. You love having him here really." John chuckled softly.


	7. Chapter 7

"What are you doing with that?" Mycroft asked as he came down from his temporary bedroom.

"Hacking." Sherlock replied, not looking up from where he was typing on Mycroft's laptop.

"How did you get that? I took it upstairs with me." Mycroft continued with a frown, walking over and holding his hand out.

"You sleep like the dead, especially with the sedative..." Sherlock muttered, slamming the laptop shut and handing it over.

"Sedative? What day is it?" Mycroft demanded, looking at the clock on the kitchen wall.

"That's completely wrong." Sherlock pointed out, watching him with a smirk on his face.

"Where's my phone?" Mycroft demanded with a frustrated huff.

"Here you go, brother dear." Sherlock said, throwing it to Mycroft.

Mycroft caught it and unlocked the screen, "It's Tuesday? I've been sleeping for three days?" he shouted.

"Calm down." Sherlock sighed, getting to his feet, "You're completely overreacting."

"How am I overreacting, Sherlock?" Mycroft demanded, glaring at his brother.

"Believe it or not, you being out of it for three days is part of the plan." Sherlock replied, "You're missing, everyone's looking for you."

"I'm missing?" Mycroft repeated with a frown.

"Yes, you're missing and this is the last place anyone will look for you." Sherlock explained, "Your phone hasn't stopped ringing. The Prime Minister is desperate to get you back."

"Isn't it suspicious that you have my phone and laptop?" Mycroft asked, sitting down in John's chair.

"No. I dumped your phone in a backstreet in the East End and had the police find it for me. Your laptop was brought to me by MI6. They seem to think it may contain information about where you're hidden." Sherlock replied, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

"I can't leave your flat." Mycroft realized with a sigh.

"Yes, you've got to stay with me." Sherlock replied with a chuckle.

"Lucky me." Mycroft muttered.

The front door slammed shut and John trudged up the stairs, shopping bags in his hands.

"Oh, you're up." John said, looking straight at Mycroft.

"Yes, after being sedated for three days." Mycroft replied, giving John a fake smile.

"I had nothing to do with that." John said, putting the shopping down in the kitchen, "That was all Sherlock's doing. He insists that it worked though."

"It did work. No one suspects that he's here." Sherlock said defensively.

"Sorry." John added to Mycroft, "It's not nice to wake from sedation. He's drugged my drinks many times."

"They were experiments, John!" Sherlock protested with a frown.

"I know, I know." John replied softly as he made tea, carefully pouring a small amount of milk into each cup.

Mycroft opened his laptop and found it to be on the network log-on page. He began typing in his username.

"You can't log on!" Sherlock warned, jumping up and reaching for the laptop, "If you log-on without any hesitation then they'll know it's not me. I know your username and password because you're obvious and predictable, but I'm pretending to enter the wrong things for their sake. They are watching for any activity from you."

Mycroft sighed, "I can't work as that will give away my location, so what can I do?" he asked.

"You can watch daytime telly." John replied, handing Mycroft a cup of tea, "I think Bargain Hunt is on BBC1."

"What's that one that I like shouting at?" Sherlock asked, accepting his cup of tea from John.

"The Jeremy Kyle Show." John replied with a sigh, "We're not watching that."

"Why not?" Sherlock demanded, "I like that one!"

"You just shout at it. I don't need both of you shouting. The neighbours have been complaining about you already this week." John replied, sitting down on the sofa.

"It sounds like I missed much while I slept against my will?" Mycroft asked, sipping his tea.

"He was incredibly loud and chaotic. We're lucky the police didn't pay us a visit with the amount of gunshots that were coming from his bedroom." John sighed.

"I was experimenting the damage inflicted to certain materials by a bullet." Sherlock argued.

"Of course you were." John muttered, sipping his tea.

Mycroft watched the two of them and smirked a little. Their petty bickering was amusing for him to listen to.


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm back!" John called up the stairs as he shut the front door. He slowly made his way up the staircase, struggling to carry the bags of Chinese takeaway and his medical kit.

"Any help with the bags would be great!" he shouted sarcastically as he made his way up the final stairs and into the kitchen. He rolled his eyes when he looked through to the living room and found both Holmes brothers absorbed by an episode of The Jeremy Kyle Show.

"She stole the jewellery, look at her hands." Sherlock said, pointing out one of the women on the chat show.

"No, look at the sister's shoes. She did it." Mycroft replied, pointing out his own observations, "You see, but you do not observe, little brother."

"I'm done playing deductions with you." Sherlock huffed, getting up from his chair and strolling into the kitchen.

"You're only sulking because I'm winning!" Mycroft called triumphantly, flicking off the television as he made his way into the kitchen too.

"My day was tedious, thanks for asking. How was your day?" John said, looking at them both with a raised eyebrow.

Sherlock glanced up at Mycroft and then back at John, both brothers clearly confused by John's outburst.

"You're supposed to ask about someone's day when they return home after a long day at work." John explained with a shake of his head, beginning to unpack the takeaway.

"Oh." Sherlock replied, standing quietly for a moment before he began looking through the food, "Did you get the duck spring rolls that I like?"

"Of course, they're virtually the only thing that I can get you to eat." John replied, handing over the paper bag that contained the duck spring rolls.

"Thank you, John." Sherlock said, taking the bag and eagerly pulling out a spring roll.

"Here you go, Mycroft. Mixed vegetables in a sweet and sour sauce and an egg fried rice." John said, handing over two containers.

"Thank you, Dr Watson." Mycroft replied, carefully dishing out the food in the two containers onto a plate.

"You can call me John you know, it's weird calling me by my formal title when you live with us." John said, dishing out his own food.

"I live here in the very loosest sense of the word 'live'." Mycroft said, "My brother is technically holding me against my will."

"You're welcome to leave, Mycroft, but Moriarty will get his hands on you within hours of you setting foot outside." Sherlock called from the living room.

Mycroft carried his plate through to the living room and sat down in John's chair, "I am aware of my situation, Sherlock, you don't need to remind me."

"Just vegetables for dinner tonight then?" Sherlock asked, looking over at Mycroft's plate.

"Yes, I'm on a diet." Mycroft replied defensively.

"You can't be on a diet and be eating takeaway." Sherlock scoffed.

"Will you two stop bickering for five minutes?" John sighed, joining them in the living room, "Mycroft, eat your food. Sherlock, leave Mycroft alone."

\---

"Thought you were safe, did you Mycroft? Thought you were hidden away at 221B with little brother and John?" Moriarty's taunting sing-song voice woke Mycroft from his slumber. He sat up suddenly, looking around the dark living room to try to pinpoint the man himself. He got to his feet and glanced around, spotting Sherlock fast asleep on the sofa.

"Show yourself." Mycroft hissed quietly, looking around in the darkness. He froze when the muzzle of a gun was placed on the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and inhaled, recognizing the perfume that filled the air. "Anthea." he murmured.

"Don't move a muscle, dearest." Anthea whispered into Mycroft's ear, keeping her gun steady against his neck.

"If you come quietly with us then there will be no need for us to wake Sherlock and John. There will be no need for us to shoot you, either." Moriarty chuckled, suddenly appearing out of the darkness. He stood right in front of Mycroft, close enough that Mycroft could feel the man's body heat in the cold room.

"Okay. Let's go." Mycroft murmured, "Don't hurt them."

"I can tell that you and I are going to have a lot of fun together, Mycroft." Moriarty said with a smirk, leading Mycroft and Anthea out of 221B and into a waiting Range Rover.


	9. Chapter 9

"Take a seat." Moriarty said in a strangely friendly tone, holding his arm out in an inviting motion.

"I was expecting a warehouse or a bunker." Mycroft admitted, sitting down on the plush sofa in the grand townhouse.

"I know, but I hate to be predictable." Moriarty replied with a chuckle, sitting down opposite Mycroft.

"Are you not going to sit down, Anthea?" Mycroft asked, glancing behind him at Anthea who was stood with her gun aimed at his head.

"No, thank you. I'd prefer to be right here so I can fire a bullet into your skull if you try anything." Anthea replied in a happy tone.

"Well, this is nice." Moriarty chuckled, pouring tea for both himself and Mycroft.

Mycroft accepted the cup but didn't drink the tea, keeping his eyes fixed on Moriarty.

"I wasn't expecting that you'd be so easy to catch, Ice Man." Moriarty said, drinking his own tea with a smile, "I would have preferred a game, but this is about Anthea not me. She's not very happy with you, you know. You ruined your little fairytale romance."

"No, you ruined it when you gave me that goddamn powder!" Mycroft hissed, losing his cool for a moment.

"Oh Ice Man, you didn't have to take it though, did you?" Moriarty replied, clearly enjoying teasing the elder Holmes brother.

"What do you get out of this?" Mycroft asked with a frown.

"I get the enjoyment of watching your heart break as precious little Anthea shoots you." Moriarty replied with a deranged laugh, "Do you think Sherlock will cry when he finds out that big brother Mycroft is dead?"

"Sentiment doesn't come easily to us." Mycroft replied, his voice hard and cold.

"That's what you tell yourselves, but I doubt it's true." Moriarty chuckled, "I can't wait to watch England fall along with the Ice Man. Do you even have a deputy?"

"I can't say, I'm afraid. Her Majesty prefers that her closest confidantes don't reveal their secrets." Mycroft replied with a smirk.

"You won't have any secrets by the time I'm done with you, Ice Man." Moriarty replied, his voice suddenly becoming threatening.

\---

"He's gone off on his own specifically after I told him not to." Sherlock huffed as he paced around the living room.

"Maybe he just wanted to go for a walk? This isn't his home so being cooped up here can't be very enjoyable." John suggested, placing Sherlock's cup of tea down on the coffee table.

"Mycroft doesn't walk." Sherlock sneered a little, unable to stop himself from making a jab towards his brother.

There was a bang from downstairs as the post arrived and hit the hallway. John made his way down the stairs and picked up the bunch of letters before he made his way back upstairs again. He had to go himself as Sherlock wouldn't bother and he didn't want Mrs Hudson struggling up the stairs with her hip.

"For you." John said, handing over an envelope with his flatmate's name on it. He didn't even notice the lack of stamp or postmark as he opened the bills.

Sherlock frowned and examined the envelope, opening it with his letter opener. His face paled and he noticeably froze as a bloodstained golden ring dropped out of the envelope and into his hand.

"Sherlock?" John asked, walking over to him and looking at the ring.

"It's Mycroft's." Sherlock managed to say as panic and worry filled him. The thought of someone having Mycroft and hurting him made him feel sick, even though he knew that his brother was trained to cope with pain and torture.

John began to ask about the ring but Sherlock shot down the stairs and flung the door open, looking for the person who'd delivered the letter. They were already gone.


	10. Chapter 10

Mycroft wasn't sure how long it had been since Moriarty had taken him from 221B but it felt like a lifetime.

Moriarty and his men had been thorough with their torture. They knew exactly how to cause maximum pain with minimum actions. Mycroft had already uttered a few secrets in order to get the pain to stop, but none of them had been state secrets _yet_.

It was only a matter of time before he'd be forced to tell a few more serious secrets to keep Moriarty happy. The longer he could last telling minor secrets, the better.

\---

"Mycroft!" Sherlock gasped, rushing down the last few stairs of the townhouse's cellar and over to his brother.

Mycroft was slumped in one of the corners of the cellar, duct tape over his mouth and restraining his wrists. His usually pristine white shirt was dirty and bloodstained and his pale face was purple with bruising.

"John! He's down here!" Sherlock shouted, kneeling down beside his brother and removing the duct tape from over his mouth.

John came down the stairs quickly and went straight to Mycroft and his flatmate, putting down his medical kit beside him.

"Okay, let's have a look." John murmured to himself, carefully running his hands over Mycroft's torso to determine his injuries.

Mycroft groaned out, his eyes flickering open, "Sh'lo'k?" he murmured.

"I'm here, brother." Sherlock assured, "You've been gone two weeks, but we've got you now."

Mycroft groaned again and let his eyes fall closed, relaxing now that he knew Sherlock was with him.

\---

The next few days were a blur for Mycroft. He was aware that he was in some sort of hospital, but he couldn't seem to make himself stay conscious for more than a few minutes at a time. He knew that Sherlock was close by and John too, which was vaguely calming to his exhausted mind and body.

"How did you find me?" he finally managed to ask after at least a week of being in hospital.

"Anthea." Sherlock replied from the chair on the right of the bed, "It turns out that she's playing double agent."

"Double agent?" Mycroft repeated with a frown.

"Yes. She's helping your lot get Moriarty." Sherlock explained, "Now that she's handed you over, Moriarty trusts her so she can get inside information."

"Anthea." Mycroft murmured with a weak smile, his eyes closing slowly.

\---

"You look peaky." Anthea's voice cut through the silence of the room.

"I'm sure you would too had you been subjected to Moriarty's knife torture, amongst other things." Mycroft replied, calmly folding his paper and placing it on the side table beside his armchair.

Anthea stepped out of the shadows and moved to sit opposite her ex-fiance. "I'm sorry." she said quietly.

"Sherlock tells me that you are a double agent. Has the mission been deliberately kept from me?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes." Anthea admitted, "It only worked because you didn't know about it."

"What about our engagement and break-up, was that staged too?" Mycroft asked coldly.

"Oh, Mycroft. Do you really think that I would give you up?" Anthea replied with a sad smile. She reached out and gently squeezed his hand.

"You did give the impression that you were done with me, due to my addictions." Mycroft admitted, removing his hand from beneath hers.

"And you gave me the impression that you were done with me. Firing someone by text really isn't polite, you know." Anthea replied with a raised eyebrow.

Mycroft pouted for a minute before he laughed softly. Anthea waited for a moment before she began to laugh too.


End file.
